Disclaimer: The usual...these characters don't belong to me but to J.R.R. Tolkien, New Line, Peter, Fran, and Philippa. I make no profit from this story except any positive feedback that happens to wander in my direction. (hint, hint…)

Author’s notes — This takes place the night before the remainder of the Fellowship heads toward the Shire, near the end of ROTK. I basically took dictation on this. Hearing voices is good when one is a writer, honest. So mostly bookverse with a bit of film, in that it was JRD and Orlando’s characterizations.

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Decisions in the Dark of Night

By songspinner

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The elf, Gimli thought, was brooding worse than Aragorn ever had. He stomped up the steps to stand in front of Legolas with arms folded across his broad chest. "What do you see out in the darkness, my friend?"

Glancing at his friend from beneath a curtain of golden hair, the elf impatiently pushed away from the stone ramparts. "Nothing of interest, Gimli." Legolas said calmly. "It is only that I cannot sleep yet."

With a little snort of disbelief, Gimli walked with him toward the house they shared with the hobbits and Gandalf. "I cannot vouch for what you did lately, laddie, but I cannot recall you sleeping in the days or nights just past."

"I fail" Legolas said without much real annoyance, "to see why you insist on calling me that, when I am centuries older than yourself. And no, I have not slept much." This last was admitted reluctantly as they entered the door and wandered into the sitting room.

"Well," Gimli said and pushed the elf down onto a chair by the fire. "You may be immortal, but I am fairly sure that you still require some rest. I have some vague memories of the elves in Rivendell and Lothlorien sleeping. We set out with Aragorn and the hobbits in the morning, and if I ride behind you on Arod, I would not have you falling asleep as we ride, if you please."

Sighing in fond exasperation, Legolas curled up with his legs tucked against the side of the well-cushioned chair. The light and shadow flickering across his face from the fireplace only emphasized how exhausted he seemed.

Gimli hid his worry as best as he could as he found a seat on a low wooden bench nearby. "Are you planning to tell me what has bothered you these past few nights? Or shall I resort to Master Merry’s little tricks to get you to tell me?"

Legolas chuckled softly. "Oh, anything but that, Gimli. I shall speak with you. This involves you, anyhow, and you should know my plans."

A single, bushy eyebrow raised high was the only response Gimli allowed himself.

"You know that I will need to travel to my home soon, to let my father and our people know what has happened. I…I sent messages several times. I’ve heard from Lord Elrond of what occurred there during the siege, but…I only wished my family to know I was alive and safe and to know the same of them, but no message has been returned as yet."

"I’m sure that Elrond would have said something if aught had happened to them."

"Yes, but you should know. I…" Legolas said, pausing to draw in a slow, steady breath. "As he has not answered, I have been unable to tell him of what has changed."

Gimli regarded his friend sadly. "The sea longing, you mean?"

"Yes, and my promises to Aragorn and his to me. Mine to you. Those are all things that will change what my father has in mind for me." Legolas replied.

"Are you the oldest then? The heir to Mirkw…sorry, Eryn Lasgalen?" The dwarf asked his friend curiously.

"Nay, it is not that, but that Thranduil has ever planned my life and been irritated that I do not follow the plan. Rebuilding Ithilien and then absconding with some of our folk to do so and to people it again shall undoubtedly…" Legolas trailed off.

"Irritate him?" Gimli finished for him, with a small grin.

To his relief, Legolas smiled back a bit. "Are you and your parents like that, then as well? Merry and Pippin have often spoken to me of their families but we rarely do so, we two."

"You are changing the subject, my friend." Gimli pointed out with a nod of his head.

"Indeed. I beg your pardon, Gimli." The elf’s eyes twinkled a bit, and his friend was glad to see it.

"Well?"

"Gimli, do you remember the Council at Rivendell, when we first met?"

With a huff of amused breath, Gimli settled back on his bench and pulled out his pipe. "Not an auspicious beginning to this odd friendship of ours, if I recall correctly. I remember a certain amount of shouting and threatening. And what I do remember as being most unexpected," he continued. "Is that you never identified yourself as a Prince, nor did you do so later at the courts of Rohan or Gondor."

"Ah. No, I did not do so." Legolas regarded his friend curiously as the little flare of the pipe being lit illuminated the many lines of Gimli’s face. "And how did you come to know?"

"Gandalf." The dwarf pulled on his pipe and blew a few smoke rings, remembering. "By way of Frodo, in Rivendell. He and I spent some time speaking of our families then, as my father and Bilbo were also doing so. Hobbits have such a tremendous interest in lineage. Speaking of which?

I warned you against changing the subject."

Legolas batted away one of Gimli’s smoke rings with one hand as it drifted perilously close to his face, looking almost annoyed at his friend’s persistence. "King Thranduil, my father, had hopes and fears together of my being declared the heir, for the darkness that lay on our home for so long did not guarantee any of our people living as long as elves should do." Legolas’s face was turned downward into shadow, and Gimli could not see it clearly.

"Your mother?" He asked with sudden insight.

That golden head came up quickly, face startled. "Yes. And others."

"And so…?"

"I have ever been restless, since I watched my home grow dark and dangerous. You may ask Aragorn of the years we spent in the wilds and the forests, protecting our people and others. As Aragorn hid his heritage, I did so alongside him; as Ranger and Warrior only, he and I travelled." With a barely noticeable shiver, Legolas laid his head on his knees. "It was their quest, Frodo’s to destroy the Ring and Aragorn to take up his destiny, and I did not have any need to be other than I was — friend and protector with all that I could give."

The elf laughed before he went on, but it was a mirthless sound that Gimli instantly detested. "Bow and arrows, skill and knives. Those were far more valuable on our journey than a crown. The men of Rohan and Gondor, in battle, would respect those but understand little of my people’s ways, I think."

"And your father?"

"Oh, Gimli. I miss him. I wish to see him beyond anything else just now, but I fear to do so, because of what this knowledge would do to him."

"That you heard the sea?"

"Aye."

Gimli tapped out his pipe on the edge of a ceramic dish and laid it carefully on the table. "If you would fight it and stay, do you not think that his love and support would help you to do so?" he asked. "You cannot stay in Gondor forever, and you and I have promises to keep, to Aragorn and Faramir, and to each other. I should like to see your home someday, now that it is full of light."

Eyes darkened by shadow met the dwarf’s and began to glow clearer in the firelight. "You would travel with me there?"

Gimli rose, walked over, and leaned against the arm of Legolas’ chair and directed a steady gaze at the elven prince. "Naturally, if it will annoy Thranduil as much as you say that it will. I have family traditions to uphold and all that."

"And…after?" Legolas’ voice was suddenly rich with hope.

"Aragorn mentioned that you’ve plans to bring some of your people to Ithilien. I assume that you and Faramir will need the proper help of my people to rebuild it, then? Elves and men know little of stone, after all."

The expected look of indignation on the elf’s face blended smoothly into feigned and much-practiced indifference. "Ah, I see. Well then, for the purpose of making Ithilien rise and then bloom again, we shall have need of one another."

Stroking his beard to hide a smile, Gimli nodded. "Aye, that we will, laddie. And for aught else that might happen."

Solemn eyes looked back at him, the lighter mood gone for the moment. "Aught else could be many things, Gimli. Pippin asked me one night when he was still abed with his wounds, if we would, any of us, every fit back into our lives and families. He had great fears of that." Legolas leaned his head back against the cushions to stare at the beams of the ceiling. "I knew not what to say to him except that healing takes time and that he was not alone."

"Then take your own advice, foolish elf!" Gimli answered him more harshly than perhaps he had intended. "I fear that myself in some ways. I fear," Gimli went on, honestly and a bit more quietly. "That I’ll not be content to go home for long. You spoke truly, for friends can help, Legolas. And family."

"But this cannot heal, Gimli."

Sighing, Gimli reached out one broad hand and rested it on his companion’s shoulder. "I would have you stay, so long as you can bear to, and you know that I will help you do so, but please. Let your family help as well. Let us travel to Eryn Lasgalen for a time, and see your family, your father. I am sure that he loves you, and that he will give you what you need to return to Ithilien and rebuild. Do you not think that Thranduil knows loss and war? Your home was surely not regained without a great price. You will need each other now."

Legolas moved to rest his forehead briefly on Gimli’s hand and the trust implicit in that gesture warmed the dwarf’s soul. "Such wisdom I never thought to hear from a dwarf, you know. How can I ask you to go there, where you will scarcely be welcomed? And yet I do not wish to go alone, and would go with no other."

"Dwarves are tough and just as stubborn as elves, as you well know." Gimli’s voice boomed in the small room. "We have promises to keep, we two, to visit Fangorn and the Glittering Caves. We shall do that, then, and travel to your home. Mine as well. I will need to bring some of my people to Ithilien as well, to build. Certainly we must visit the Shire. And it is time to get some rest so that we can set out in the morning." He grasped the elf’s hand and pulled him to his feet.

"The Fellowship will begin to break apart ere this small journey ends." Legolas remarked as he stood.

"In distance, my friend, in distance only. Never in truth."

A true, brilliant smile lit up the elf’s face. "You speak truly, Gimli.

I remember that on a battlefield I made a promise to fight side by side with a friend, did I not?"

"Aye, you did."

"Then I shall ride and walk side by side with a friend now."

"Aye, you will."